


Sleepless Among Seekers

by Spoon888



Series: Mission And Companion Pieces [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Domestication, Gen, M/M, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 01:43:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10911774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: Megatron and sleep. Or the lack thereof.





	Sleepless Among Seekers

**Author's Note:**

> The second in a series of companion pieces following the events of [Mission](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6643972/chapters/15200419).

As far as Megatron knew, seekers were not nocturnal. So either Starscream was part Turbo-bat or Megatron was even less informed of the recharging habits of his Air Force than he had previously thought.

The light from Starscream's datapad was bright in their otherwise dark quarters. The seeker's sharp digits tapping across it in a staccato of noise impossible to ignore.

"Starscream..." Megatron's exasperated sigh was muffled where he was sprawled across the berth, face pressed against the seeker's hip. It was a pleasant place to be. Starscream's armour was warm and smooth beneath his cheek. He nuzzled against it, hoping to garner his berthmate's attention.

"Wait," the seeker muttered noncommittally, still focused on his work.

Megatron's arm twitched where it lay thrown across his mate's lap. He had been waiting for over an hour now.

It was bad enough that Starscream came crawling into their berth every evening stinking of chlorine trifluoride (Primus only knew what he'd been doing in his lab all cycle) but that he insisted on bringing the data back to his quarters with him so he could sit up all night to study it and further test the undying patience of his generous leader, was certainly pushing it.

Megatron growled, optic flicking online as the first datapad was switched with a second.

Starscream lowered a servo to brush across his helm condescendingly, "Wai-"

Megatron shot up and snatched the damn datapad out of the seeker's grip. It sparked and spluttered as it was crushed in his massive servo, crumpled pieces falling into Starscream's lap.

He lifted his optics to meet the seeker's dark, unimpressed gaze.

"Charming." Starscream hissed in a tone that implied he thought his leader's behaviour was anything but.

"I told you-"

"You don't tell _me_ what to do!" Starscream's optics flashed in the dark room, turning Megatron's mood from annoyed to furious at a speed of which no one else had ever accomplished.

"Listen here, you little brat!" He rose to his knees on the berth so to better loom over the seeker, thinking it high time Starscream was put back in his place, "This is _my_  ship-"

Starscream's thruster met with his chest, and with strength he hadn't known the seeker possessed, he was kicked off the berth, stumbling to regain his footing on the floor. "You-!"

"No, _you_ listen!" Starscream snarled, he held a piece of the broken datapad in his fist like a primitive weapon. It was certainly sharp enough to hurt should he decide to bury it in his commander's chest. "You just destroyed an entire cycles work!"

"Drop it!" Megatron barked, pointing at the makeshift dagger his mate was carrying as he backed away, right arm raised but woefully void of it's fusion cannon. Curse Starscream's lull in assassinate attempts. He had grown complacent in their absence. "I'm warning-"

"Out!" Starscream shrieked, chasing his towards the door. "Get out!"

Megatron stumbled over the threshold, but his remaining dignity refused to let him flee up the hallway, even with a psychotic seeker brandishing jagged metal in his face. "You can't evict me from my own quarters!"

"I just did!" Starscream snarled, and punched the door-panel.

The door sealed, the lock activating with a clank not a moment later. Megatron stared at it.

After a moment of indignant surprise, he entered the access code. The door panel flashed red. That cursed seeker had changed the code, the little-

He pounded on the door. "Starscream!" He yelled into the reinforced steel, "Starscream, you have five seconds to open this door or you won't live to regret it!"

There was no answer.

"Getting behind on your work is going to be the least of your concerns when I'm throttling you, seeker!" He tried the access code again as he yelled. Still it flashed red. "Starscream!"

Silence.

Megatron's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. There was no way he had the physical strength to break down the door, it had originally been installed to keep the likes of Starscream and his experimental iron-eroding chemicals out after all. Megatron's fusion cannon, the only thing capable of blasting it down, currently sat at the side of his berth.

He was vaguely surprised the seeker hadn't burst out of their room welding it, to be honest.

Reluctant to spend the night recharging in the hallway, he stowed his temper and knocked on the door, "Starscream?"

There was a long pause, but eventually...

"...What?" He heard Starscream from inside the room.

Megatron worked his glossa around his mouth for a moment, trying to compose a convincing enough argument to get himself back in the room without actually having to apologise. It was such a shame Starscream was so... un-romanceable, otherwise he could have spouted some sentimental drivel and all would be forgiven.

"Open this door, or I'll take myself elsewhere," he threatened, knowing the seeker would understand the implication. If Starscream's jealously didn't motivate him into unlocking the door, nothing else could.

"No one else will _have_  you!" Starscream's voice snarled back, clearer this time. Like he was pressed against the door on it's other side.

"I am welcome in many berths," he said, laying it on thick. He sounded like one of the cheap daytime dramas he'd once seen in Iacon. "Decepticons far loyaler than you are all too willing to please their leader."

"Shut up!" There was a bang on the other side of the door.

Megatron smirked, and started moving away up the corridor, "I'm sure _Soundwave_  will have me..."

Right on cue, the door shot open. Megatron spun around with a gloating "Aha!" But didn't get much further before Starscream struck with a furious noise, all denta and claws and dragging him back into their quarters like an Insecticon did a carcass to it's lair.

Megatron, fortunately, did not spend that night recharging in the hallway. Unfortunately, he would have gained far more recharge had he done so.

 

* * *

 

 

There was little room for recharge in the schedule of a Supreme Commander. In Megatron's youth, as the reprobate leader of a budding rebel cause, he was sure he had coped far better. Week long campaigns had been fought with barely a nap, the constant threat of death and imprisonment enough to motivate anyone into keeping alert, no matter the recharge deprivation.

But he hadn't been a parent, then.

"Sire?" A voice breached his drowsy thoughts. "...Sire?"

Someone was calling him.

"Wake _up_ , Sire!" The indignant voice had taken to shaking him, small servos nudging at his shoulder.

Megatron checked his internal chrono before committing himself to onlining his optics. 0400 Tarn City Standard Time. Thanks to Starscream's restlessness he had only been recharging for a couple of hours, and like Pit was he getting out of his berth for anything less than a ship wide emergency.

He threw an arm in the general direction of the disturbance, huffing in irritation. "Miss..." he mumbled, face pressed against the berth covers, "s' late."

"Sire, this is important," Mission was only more determined now that he knew he was awake. "There's -you need to wake up."

Megatron lit an optic, turning his helm away from the covers to face his son. There was an uncharacteristic hesitance about the small seeker that sparked concern in Megatron's hazy, sleep-deprived processor. Mission was shifting his footing awkwardly, glancing back at the sealed door to his own quarters.

Megatron tried to blink his optics into focus, "S'matter?" He asked gruffly.

"There is a Scraplet..." Mission told him very seriously, speaking quietly so as not to wake Starscream on the berth's other side, "In my quarters."

For a moment, Megatron thought he was still dreaming. He knew sparklings were prone to falling victims to their own overactive imaginations -he had read so in one of the datapads Soundwave had given him- but everything about Mission indicated that he had well outgrown such behaviour, had he ever exhibited it in the first place.

"Where?" Megatron decided to reserve judgement for now, "...under your berth?"

Mission's face twisted into a scowl, "Of course not," he hissed, as if Megatron was the one talking nonsense. "it's in the ventilation shaft."

"Of course it is," Megatron muttered, already rolling out of the berth with a loud put upon groan of effort. Beside him Starscream stirred, making an inquisitive noise. Megatron brushed his wing, "I'll be back."

Mission trailed behind him on the short walk across the room to his quarters, reluctant to pass through the door first when it whooshed open.

"Alright," Megatron groaned when he stood beside the air vent in Mission's quarters, hardly believing he was actually going through with the ridiculous charade. "I'll frighten away the ' _scraplet''_ and you go back to recharge. Agreed?"

Mission was frowning at him. "There's usually more than one."

"I doubt there's _any_ ," Megatron reached to open the vent, "It's an old ship, Mission. Not every strange noise you hear is going to be a cannibalistic parasite, it's just your imagination playing tricks..."

He was cut off by a chittering noise echoing through the vent. He snapped his attention back to the shadows at the end of the shaft, where two huge purple orbs shone. The sudden staccato of multiple legs sprinting on metal drew him from his shock and he slammed the vent cover back down.

"My _imagination_?!" Mission demanded with an indignant stamp of his tiny thruster, "What kind of _lunatic_ do you think I-"

It would have been an impressive rant, Megatron could tell, had he had time to listen to it. He grabbed Mission around the middle and tossed the still shouting sparkling back into his and Starscream's quarters, just as the scraplet inside the vent slammed into the cover with a clang, legs and pincers clawing at air.

"Gun!" He snapped at Mission, servos clamped over the vent to prevent the scraplet from breaking free and trying to cannibalise his sparkling. Scraplets had a preference for younger, nutrient rich frames, and their deadly denta could cut through a sparkling's armour like it was made of lead. "Gun, now!"

Mission though, in typical Mission-fashion, wasn't listening. The commotion had woken Starscream, and his son was prioritising voicing his complaints over the necessity of exterminating the potential plague that had infiltrated the ship.

"-like I don't know the difference between air moving through the vents and the sound of vermin-"

"GUN!" Megatron bellowed again as the scraplet rapidly chewed through the metal cover, it's chainsaw-like teeth scrapping the edges of Megatron servos. The vile little creature was going to bite off his digits and all his moronic seekers were doing was-

Starscream's slight but strong frame shoved him aside. The scraplet fell out of the vent with an insane shriek, squirming on the floor to get it's footing, huge optics already scanning the occupants of the room for its best prey. Locking dead on Mission it prepared to lunge - when a sky blue thruster came down on its spine with a sickening crunch.

The scraplet squealed miserably, legs kicking weakly. Starscream's heel twisted, and it went limp.

Megatron hardly dared to glance at Starscream's face. He already knew what he'd find there.

"Go back to recharge," the seeker said darkly, " _Both_  of you. I'll comm Soundwave and order a full security sweep of the ship."

"I can-" Megatron began weakly, breaking off when Starscream flashed him a _look._

He shared a glance with his son, and found his sparkling looking much like he felt, and obediently returned to his berth. Starscream was already on his comm, organising what sounded like the most brutal scraplet genocide the vermin species had ever experienced.

It was probably best he let Starscream handle it. The seeker always had enjoyed the methodical annihilation of lesser lifeforms.

 

* * *

 

 

Up since the night _before_  tracking down a stolen supply shipment, Megatron had been looking forward to a much needed recharge.

Until he had stepped into his quarters to see Starscream, up and waiting for him (an enjoyable sight indeed), accompanied by their sparkling, who should have been sent to recharge hours ago (not quite so enjoyable a sight).

Worse still, they were both sprawled across his berth alongside half a library's worth of reference data pads. Barely a spare inch for him to rest on. They hardly spared him a glance as he entered, too engrossed in a discussion that sounded like it was veering towards an inevitable argument.

They were lucky he didn't _seriously_ consider crushing them under the physical and emotional weight of his exhaustion. He very generously moved Mission before rolling himself onto his side of the berth. He felt datapads move and shift where they were trapped beneath him.

"-when you programme a space bridge you have to adjust for speed?!" Mission was asking Starscream, speaking fast, a sure sign he was a little overexcited. Not a good thing so late at night. "Even though the bridge is stationary?"

"It's the distance. You need separate calculations for both the rotation of the planet and the speed of the ship in orbit." Starscream sounded exasperated, pointing at the datapad Mission was holding, "Read. It says-"

"And does Skywarp understands this?" Mission interrupted, sounding disbelieving as he pulled away from Starscream to clamber atop his sire's chassis, most likely to gain some height over his creator.

"Skywarp doesn't use a Space Bridge," Megatron grumbled, tired of being ignored, and tireder still of their conversation. "He has a warp drive."

"If Skywarp can master not teleporting himself into the core of a plant, so can I," Mission continued as if Megatron hadn't spoken, "I _can_  programme a Space Bridge-"

"No," Starscream snapped, "You're not programming anything! I leave you alone with anything more advanced than screwdriver and we have to spend the next three stellar cycles repairing the damage."

"That was one time!"

Megatron wondered if Starscream ever bothered considering where Mission's disposition for mass-destruction might come from. It was either learned (Starscream's fault), or hereditary (also Starscream's fault). He considered inserting himself into the argument to point this out, but a quick risk/reward assessment advised against this.

Unfortunately, he was dragged into the argument anyway.

Missions's face had flushed a vibrant colour, and seeing as he was getting nowhere with his creator, turned instead to his sire, who up until that moment had only been slightly more interesting than the furniture, and with Mission currently sitting on his chest, was being treated as such.

"Sire?" Mission _whined,_  his face falling into a sad pleading desperate expression.

It felt like a servo took hold of Megatron's spark and squeezed, and the bizarre urge to submit to any and all wants rose once again- before he caught the deadly look on Starscream's face over the sparkling's shoulder.

It took a lot of restraint, but, "No Space Bridges." He managed.

Starscream had said 'no' as well, but it was Megatron who was the target of the explosive tantrum. Mission may be small but that only made his claws sharper, and it took Starscream a full five minutes of struggling to extract the violent monster from his sire's arm.

Paint ruined, and a few wires nicked, Megatron watched the seeker drag their sparkling out of their room. "-don't spend hours of my precious time polishing his armour for you to ruin my hard work, you uncivilised-"

The door to Mission's quarters closed and Megatron could only just about make out two muffled voices shrieking at each other in the other room. He laid back on the datapad covered berth, wincing as some dug into his back.

He was tired. Too tired to clear the datapads. Too tired to intervene in the fight next door. Too tired to do anything but offline his optics and fall into recharge to the soothing sounds of seekers trying to kill one another.

Bliss.


End file.
